Friday, June 09, 2006

ZOMBIE ARMY TAKES WHITEHOUSE & MAD POETS DREAM LOVE

POSTER OF NEW INSTALLMENT OF RE-ANIMATOR (OR THE INSIDE STORY ON THE BUSH REGIME & IT'S ZOMBIE FOLLOWERS: COMING TO A COUNTRY NEAR YOU ! )Posted by PicasaPAINTING BY MAX ERNST " UBU IMPERATOR"( GEORGE BUSH EMPEROR OF AMERICA SCOLDING THE MASSES:WAR IS THE NATURAL HYGIENE )Posted by Picasa

As the world turns topsy-turvy as it were ; here is a little poem for these troubled times.

I dream love walking along the boardwalksharing some weed with another lost soulsome sad eyed poet searching for love & beautyfinding only truth stripped of all delusionswalking with some sad eyed young girl still searchinglost in romantic delusionssome sad eyed forty something womanstill dreaming of being an artistwishing she would take refuge in my armsbut I lack anything of valuebeing poor in body & spirithaving no answers to offer-

I dream love as I join the Tzars of the caféin heated debates over poetry & artjoking about love & lifearmed anarchists disgustedat all the indifferencetossing bombs into caféstossing Molotov cocktails into quiet living roomsof the tyrants & bureaucrats who stoke the engines of despairin the name of law & orderin their barbed-wire encircled gated townsas they lecture the poor about peace & freedomthe peace the ruling class desiresthe freedom of the poor to starvethe freedom of the homeless to die in despairthe freedom of the abused child filled with fearwho’s soul withers & diestelling all these lost souls they are free at lastjust don’t raise your voice to complainjustice is only for the deserving fewjust pray & keep silentis what the tyrants say -

I dream love as the old war vets march byon a cold wet day in Novemberas they remember the slaughterin the name of freedom so they saythe poor sent into Hellfor a pack of cigarettes & a crust of breadbut its bred into their bonesto fight & die for some lofty causeto keep the rich safe in their homesonly to return to toil for tyrantsfor scraps from their tables of plentyso sons of the nation do your dutyto die on foreign soil& the sons of the rich do their dutytoiling in colleges of ivy for a few years playing at being students in the fields of Bohemiawhile the poor die in Flanders fieldsgoing on the Grand Toursettling down to a life of greed & power -